Dr Colin Pillinger's sexual escapades

Disclaimer: this is intended as a fair/fictional comment and any names are used as solely to exemplify the issue: Dr Pillinger here stands for any famous scientist and Abi Titmuss/Jordan ... any page three girl. The intention is not to portray neither Dr Pillinger, Ms Titmuss or Mrs Jordan (or even "Daily Star'', for that matter) in offensive manner, even though this piece can be considered critical in nature. If any of the aforementioned (or their lawyers) find this piece offensive please email a comment to the blog and I will as soon as possible consider if any alterations are necessary on the merits of the comment.

I know. The headline of this piece might come across weird, risks me being considered even weirder and dooms this blog to the corners of cyberspace unknown to man, to the eerie interstellar space of ones and zeros without any readers . And even worse, to be shunned and avoided in my workplace. So please, don't stop reading quite yet, give me a chance to explain.*

After all, I am just fulfilling my promises, something I have told you.

Remember me promising to write down any good ideas if I get them? Well, this is one. (Where is the applause?) This idea in fact came to me when I couldn't get sleep and was thinking of you, dear readers, how to not only entertain but also to inform you (believe it or not) in a relatively... maybe unconventional ... way.

First things first. Dr Colin Pillinger is the mastermind behind a sophisticated scientific project that was supposed to land a probe (Beagle 2) on Mars (no, not Venus. But the shuttle will land there as well, metaphorically at least, just read on) . A cool probe that was supposed to roam the unknown contours of his subject and bring home excitement, scientific evidence in a way no man had achieved before.

How sexy is that?

Unfortunately the mission lead by Dr Pillinger failed. No one is quite sure why. Especially not the dailystar-tabloidy-type of journalists to whom canyons and valleys are synonyms to "birds' cleavages", if anything). They did not care. So who would care of "ordinary science", everyday laboratory work, if missions as sexy as this failed to properly excite the hard men of the press.

This has to be changed. That is why I am all for Dr Pillinger's wet dreams (in fact, I am dreaming them for him). Nonetheless, they must became true!

In order to do this, to get millions of funding, fame and fortune and happiness, Dr Pillinger must beat the page three girls. Admittedly, he cannot beat them on their own, very earthly "dale sided by two hills" territory. He needs something bit more high-fly for that.

I am not sure if topics "Dr Colin probes Abi Titmuss (too difficult to find a website not needing censorship) for scientific findings" (hint: look the photo art of the piece and let your imagination fly and you might just notice something) would do that either, not that I would suspect at all that Dr Pillinger could not easily discover a thing or two about this subject.

A most capable man, but unlucky in his pursuit of scientific magnificence in his last go.

But now let's hit the magic button here not to prolong the excitement. The point I am trying to touch here is that everyone, Tony Blair and Tessa Jowell included, are moaning together that science is not pulling enough people; in folk language, is simply not sexy enough. The strategic curve points downwards, the breeding numbers of new scientists are too low.

But as most good solutions, the solution to this problem is simple. Blind-droolingly obvious. The "magic"potion of sex.

Science must be made sexy, to be desired for, and what better way to do it than to use ... science. Using its very own tricks, plastic surgery and voila .. Dr Pillingers will be not only of doctors of philosophy but also - at least - Masters of Seduction.

Imagine Daily-Star drooling about headlines such as "Jordan: I dumped Peter for a ride on Doctor (not Strangelove) Telescopian's magic shuttle." How (male) readers would like to be in Dr Pillinger's (or excuseme the phrase, get out of his pants), knowingly winking at the thought of Jordan's shuttle ride. (Of course: it could be a female scientist for whom Peter would dump Jordan - to experience the magic of science [referee's note: In all likelihood, a female scientist would be too intelligent to consider Peter worthy a so-called 'ride'])

Let's figh celebrity centred publicity with its own weapons, let (us: I do have a science degree as well) all scientists revolt! Anyway it doesn't take too long to engage in audacious romps - it's all about time management and planning - surely being a scientist and, ehm, being an eye-catching celebrity can be combined!

In this way everyone would like to be scientist. And the world a better place to live.

The (happy) End of the modern fairytale. Any resemblance to real life is purely coincidental. Honestly. This was result of lateral thinking. Done with a clear, sober, albeit very tired mind.

*I will write about more serious matters in the future as well. I hope you, dear readers, will consider each piece by its own merits (if there are any ...)